The Worth of Twelve More Years
by The Ingenue's Shadow
Summary: Boromir and Faramir's older brother was framed for a massacre and leaves the city; he falls in love with Galadriel's other daughter and tries to free himself of blame for the massacre. Review mine, I review yours!
1. Framed

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	2. Farewell

"Hedregon," Boromir said, "Hedregon . . . by Valar, what did those monsters do to you?"  
  
Hedregon tried to answer, "I fell, or was pushed . . . when I woke up everyone was angry . . . didn't know why . . ."  
  
"Shh. Just rest for now."  
  
"Sircyn and Bevolen!" Faramir exclaimed.  
  
"What?" Boromir said.  
  
"Those men who've been following him around lately; I'll bet they set this up!"  
  
"Why didn't you say anything about it to me? To him?"  
  
"It wasn't your business. As for Hedregon, he knew."  
  
"What?"  
  
"He knew them. He was talking to them all of the time."  
  
"Since when?"  
  
"I don't know; lay off the third degree!"  
  
"Hedregon will never be able to set foot in Minas Tirith again! He's supposed to be dead! How can you tell me to lay off?"  
  
"I have no idea why he was set up like that, okay? Let's just ask him when he wakes up."  
  
"I'm perfectly awake," Hedregon mumbled, feeling much happier now that he knew he wasn't going to be executed.  
  
Boromir looked torn; he wanted more than anything to know for sure who had framed his brother so that he could tear them to pieces, but Hedregon looked horrible. Should he not rest? His worse half took over,  
  
"Do you know who set you up?"  
  
"Well, I cannot say that I do. It couldn't possibly be Sircyn and Bevolen. They're so terribly kind to me . . . wait." Hedregon suddenly had a memory flashback of when he woke up two days ago. He remembered a searing pain in his head piercing into his dream, then opening his eyes and seeing too many people to count . . . they were all surrounding him, all furious.  
  
Someone, yes it was Bevolen, began to shout at him, soon the others were doing the same. They came at him . . . with the clubs . . . the fists . . . the feet and rods. Hedregon fell, over and over again, until he bothered to wonder why he kept tripping. Looking down at his feet, Hedregon saw the ground, dirt as usual, but littered with dead bodies, all carcasses. He saw Sircyn, and called to him for aid, but Sircyn only struck him once more.  
  
"Yes," said Hedregon in astonishment and despair, "it was they."  
  
Boromir nodded and made to leave, but Hedregon called him back, "Please, Boromir, leave them be. There must be some excuse, some logical answer to all of this."  
  
"Am I the only one out of the both of you who sees the seriousness of the situation? Hedregon, being the sweet angeneou cannot win back your respect this time. Nearly everyone in Minas Tirith was affected by the massacre somehow, and unless anyone can prove that you didn't slaughter those thirty-some people -"  
  
"Thirty-three." Hedregon offered.  
  
"No," Faramir interrupted, "One more died in the Houses of Healing."  
  
"Fine!" Boromir yelled, getting very impatient, "What I'm saying is that every man, woman and child in Minas Tirith believe you to be some murderer who could easily throttle them in their sleep. You cannot go back. Ever. Are you getting this, Hedregon?"  
  
Hedregon opened his mouth but without sound. After some time, he formed one question, "Denethor?"  
  
"Denethor knows you are innocent. He sent us to help you escape." Faramir answered, seeing as Boromir had already vanished into the woods; Hedregon guessed he was in search of Sircyn and Bevolen.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"My brother, need you ask? Denethor is no fool; he is saving you. Beyond any doubt had he set you free and claimed you innocent you actually would be dead. Stoned, stabbed, Boromir was right. The people of Minas Tirith are still grumbling because they weren't granted the delight of watching you burn at the stake." Hedregon was beginning to come back into the real horror which his life was becoming. He could never return. His old house, his room,  
  
"My books!" Hedregon cried, attempting to get up but then cringing at the pain it caused him simply to tense his muscles. Faramir smiled.  
  
"I brought them for you. These three and the one you hid under your floorboards."  
  
"Amazing. Bless you, brother." Hedregon fingered the leather binding of one of his precious notebooks, and hugged it tightly as he lay back and closed his eyes.  
  
"I put together an entire pack, you see. It includes food, blankets, water, pens, ink, and a new blank book; Boromir suggested I add that. I also packed a map. We want to know where you decide to go so that we may come and visit you, and I'm working on building a secret entrance to the city and the palace so that you may visit us. Just promise me that you won't tell Boromir about it; he'd go into a fit of nerves at the thought of you sneaking back here."  
  
"Will he not find out if I suddenly appear in the palace? Besides, what do you mean where will I go? Why can I not simply stay here?"  
  
"Don't be a fool, Hedregon! Come out of your imagination and wake up in reality. We're no more than twenty minutes from the city, and if anyone, anyone saw you . . . Denethor couldn't save you a second time." Faramir sighed, "Come, we will decide where you will go tomorrow." He left Hedregon's side and began to build a fire. Hedregon unfolded the map and looked it over. He loved maps, he found them fascinating, but never before had he seen one of all of Middle Earth.  
  
Hedregon assumed that he would not be able to live anywhere at all in Gondor, so he put that out of his mind and looked elsewhere. Rohan was the only other land of free men, but men were dull and if Hedregon was going to be in exile, he might as well choose someplace romantic. Elves and Dwarves were out of the question, they both had their noses so high in the air that one could look up, or in a Dwarf's case, down them. Hedregon actually had never seen a real Elf or Dwarf before, only read about them in the books in his father's library. His eyes wandered to another section of the map, the Shire. Was that not where the perian dwelt? These had always seemed especially interesting to Hedregon, and he decided that he must go there as soon as he saw it. They were a peace-loving folk, very tranquil and calm. The Shire itself was also beautiful, every spring was said to be more stunning than the one before it. Yes, this was where Hedregon must go.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The next morning Hedregon informed his brothers of his plan. They both agreed to it, although Faramir wistfully, for the Shire was terribly far from Minas Tirith. Boromir and Faramir marked on the map the route which Hedregon must take,  
  
"Travel up the Anduin and into Lothlórien. Then take the Red Horn pass through the mountains and follow the East Road into the Shire." Boromir explained. "Do you know where you wish to go when you get to the Shire?"  
  
"Yes; I have decided to settle in the area the perian call 'Buckland.' It is close to the outside of the Shire and is supposed to have a vast supply of trees."  
  
"It's settled then. I will miss you Hedregon; I do not think it possible to visit you enough. You leave tonight."  
  
"Tonight?" Hedregon exclaimed. "Why so soon?"  
  
"You have to get out of here. I, uh, well . . . Sircyn and Bevolen dug up your tomb. Minas Tirith knows you're alive."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"They've sent out the alarm. Searches for you start tomorrow evening and Faramir and I think it would be best if you were long gone by then."  
  
"I cannot travel like . . . like this!"  
  
"You will be in a boat. Your arms are much better." Hedregon glared at his brother's optimism. His arms were folly. They were bruised in more places than not and covered with knife marks. "You will be able to be fully healed in Lothlórien. Elves are said to be great healers, you know."  
  
"If I'm not much mistaken, I am your elder brother. And I say that this is crazy."  
  
"Say what you will, but get packed. We need to reach the Anduin by nightfall." Hedregon was very annoyed with Boromir, but did realize what danger he was in so gathered his things and put them in his bag. "You have your sword?"  
  
"How, pray tell, will I be able to lift it? I hate the thing, anyways, is now not an ideal time to discard it?" Boromir did not answer, Hedregon knew it was because he was complaining and Boromir did not feel like explaining to him that a sword is used for protection, which could therefore come in handy. Hedregon had never been a soldier, although he worked for his father as one and his sword oft felt like his enemy. He'd prefer a pen.  
  
They finally settled on Hedregon bringing his sword in his bag, so as not to weigh him down but still prove usable if needed. Faramir was back by nightfall and in the darkness the three traveled [enter cardinal direction here] until they reached the river Anduin. Faramir threw Hedregon's pack into the small boat he had prepared for him and helped him in. Before pushing the boat into the water, each of Hedregon's younger brothers gave him their blessing.  
  
"You only have to row to Lórien, remember that. And send word for us as soon as you reach the Shire! Farewell now, brother, best wishes for a new life." Faramir said. Then Boromir spoke,  
  
"Hedregon," he said, "Please keep your head on straight. Tell no one of your reasons for fleeing, or even where you came from; it is far too dangerous to trust fate, after the hand she has dealt you. I will come visit you as soon as I am able; perhaps the confusing dream trick will work again." He sighed, and then continued, "I suppose I must look after Denethor now in your place. Good luck to you."  
  
Hedregon didn't look at his brothers as they pushed his boat into the river, for after all he was the captain of them and it would never do for them to see him crying. Wincing at the pain in his shoulder, Hedregon picked up a paddle and commenced in rowing upriver. 


	3. At First Sight

Three days later Hedregon's arms were numb. He hadn't stopped at all, mainly out of fear of inability to start back up again, and was getting extremely weary. Food had run out the day before, his blankets were sopping wet, and the only thing which seemed to be somewhat on his side was the icy wind helping to push him upriver at the price of severe cold.  
  
Suddenly the air stopped. The fierce wind became a gentle breeze and warmth flushed into Hedregon's face. He looked around, and saw tall, strong forests filled with golden-leaved trees. The canopy closed out all light, but for some reason light seemed to come from within the trees. After a few hours, a harbor presented itself to Hedregon, and he allowed his boat to sail in between two of the large tree roots used for docks. An Elf was there, holding a piece of parchment between his thin fingers and giving Hedregon a very stern look.  
  
"What is your name and business?" The Elf demanded. Hedregon did not feel like answering this question. He got out of the boat; now dragging his pack, and fell down. The Elf must have realized the condition Hedregon was in, because he knelt down to help him to his feet. "Can you stand?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Hedregon replied, "I can stand. I am seeking medical assistance; I am badly wounded."  
  
"Please, come with me." The Elf offered, and Hedregon followed. They walked until they came to a larger path, and as it was now evening, the whole forest seemed to be illuminated with moonlight. Hedregon thought that he could not take in enough all at once, for the trees now had fine ladders and stairs leading up to beyond where Hedregon could see.  
  
Being led through the Elf city Hedregon began to feel very self-conscious. Apparently the spectacle of a half-dead man walking through the heart of Elvish land was interesting enough to collect a few spectators. Soon enough, Elves had gathered to look upon him, and Hedregon had almost given up on trying to take in all that was around him when he looked up. That was when he saw her.  
  
High above him on a white-railed bridge between two trees was a maiden looking down upon the crowd with a curious glance. Her hair was a light, shadowy brown and chopped hastily quite short, and while her expression was saddened, her eyes danced with light and shone with the joy of simply being alive. Then their eyes met, and it was in that instant that Hedregon fell in love for the first time.  
  
He was led on, but as he was hurried along, they held each other's gaze until she was out of sight. After a few minutes the Elf from the harbor stopped in front of a ladder, so thin it could have been mistaken for a silver spider's web, which led to no specific place, just upwards until it disappeared into the leaves.  
  
Hedregon turned to the Elf, but he had already flitted up the ladder. Hedregon clenched his teeth, took a breath and clambered onto the ladder. He clung to the first step for dear life, and then the next. He would have tried to reach the next rail, but the pressure of his upper body and the sturdy ladder broke his legs with a nasty crunching sound. Hedregon fell with a thud to the ground below and blackness suffocated him.  
  
Frantically he groped the air, but he couldn't see a thing. Letting his arms drop to his sides, Hedregon let out a cry of pain. Soon the Elf, who must have heard Hedregon's cry, called up the ladder for the healers to hurry,  
  
"He cannot make it up; we should not carry him. We'll need four strong at least to heal him." The Elf turned to Hedregon, "Patience. Drink this, as it will allow you to fall back asleep and ease the pain."  
  
So a thick, warm liquid was permitted to slide down Hedregon's throat as more Elves in bluish garments landed at the bottom of the ladder like cats. Try as he did to stay awake to watch the Elves work, Hedregon quickly was welcomed into darkness. 


	4. In the Clearing

When he awoke from his imposter sleep the night had fallen, and while he was a bit sore, Hedregon was overjoyed to find that for the first time in two weeks, it did not hurt him to move. His legs were healed; all of his bruises, cuts, and bashes where gone. Sircyn's blow from the shovel was greatly reduced, but it was still there. Hedregon guessed it would be until he died.  
  
Looking around and seeing that no one was about, he got up and crept back to the main road he had come on, searching for the maiden whom he had been calling "Rathien" for some time now in his mind. He felt that it was her grace that brought him to Lórien and had strengthened him to come as far as he had.  
  
The bridge was empty as far as Hedregon was concerned. Its only occupant was another Elven maid, this one with a peach-colored dress and matching light red hair which fell down past her waist. Pretty, yes, actually quite beautiful, but she was not Rathien.  
  
Then all of a sudden she fled off of the bridge and down a silken rope. Hedregon hopefully followed her through the trees. He felt like he was making an awful amount of noise, but while she did hear him and turn around several times, she seemed to be too concerned with where she was going to notice.  
  
Elves were quite strange indeed.  
  
"Anna!" Someone cried, and soon Hedregon was looking into a clearing.  
  
It was small, but the trees above it gave way to an opening in the canopy, so the moon shone down upon 'Anna' and the girl who had called her name. In a dress of pearly water, the moonlight gave way to her identity as Rathien. Hedregon hid in the brush, watching the girls talk.  
  
"You managed to get out?" Anna asked.  
  
"Yes," Rathien answered, "I think I've finally found a sufficient path of escape. Did you bring them?"  
  
Anna grinned. "Far too simply. Here," she said as she handed Rathien a worn sword and its sheath, a quiver with arrows, a bow, and several short knives.  
  
Rathien's face shone with glee, "Anna," she said as she looked over the weapons, "How can I ever repay you?"  
  
"Easy. I did it myself, for you would be moping and miserable had I not retrieved them for you. So you are on tree arrest again?"  
  
"Yes, but I wanted to tell you about the battle. I paid dearly for that one, as well as tree arrest; Galadriel took the color from my sight. Indeed it does feel strange looking at your hair and not seeing the fire. Oh, but I cannot stay long; if Galadriel catches me out . . ." she shuddered, and for a brief moment the light and wonder dimmed from her eyes.  
  
"Lisiael?" So that was her name!  
  
"Anyway. The battle. It was fantastic, Anna! We fought the orcs who had attacked the northern border, but they never had a chance. I took down seven all on my own, and it wasn't even until the way back that the other soldiers realized I was a maiden!"  
  
Both Elves laughed gaily as Lisiael - no, Hedregon still preferred Rathien - continued to describe epic moments in this battle she had snuck off to, or so it seemed.  
  
Finally the laughter died down and Anna asked in a low voice, "Did you see the human that was brought in today?"  
  
Rathien nodded solemnly.  
  
"He looked terrible," Anna continued, "What do you suppose could have befallen him, or do men simply look like that?"  
  
"He is running away from something, I'm not quite sure what."  
  
"Lisiael, you did not!"  
  
"I know it was rude, I know, I know, but I was just so curious."  
  
Anna still gave her an awestruck look, almost a 'how-could-you-do-that?' but a bit humored.  
  
"I didn't even get very far. His mind was somehow blocked from me."  
  
"Blocked?" Now Anna was curious.  
  
"Yes, I couldn't quite place where his thoughts were . . . as if they were scattered and fluttering all over the place. The only two specific feelings I picked up were betrayal and . . . and . . . um," Rathien stammered out of disbelief of her own words.  
  
"Well, what?"  
  
"Well . . . it was . . . it was love. Love for life, love for everything around him, love for the people he left behind, and while I do not understand why, love for me. He . . . he loves me."  
  
Anna was bemused, "Love? Lise, love is a fairy-tale. I have heard stories that it was once real, but now it is just an excuse to give away freedom. Have you not sworn multiple times that you would never marry?"  
  
"But I felt free! And I know this must sound like one of my mad fantasies, Anna, but I think I love him also. I completely forgot Galadriel and Eilliuyn and that crazy Elf Mela, you know the one, well, all of the reality of my life was washed away the second I looked into his eyes. He, also, lives in a romanticized world of make-believe, I could tell. I also can guess that I will remember this mad night forever."  
  
Anna did not seem to understand, but Hedregon did. The Elf Rathien had just described better than he ever could have exactly why his heart was beating so fast earlier when he first saw her, and why it was now just from watching her. Then something happened.  
  
Rathien's eyes grew wide with fright of something which seemed to so horrible that Hedregon did not want to even know what it was. Her entire soul had disappeared again, replaced by a dead terror strong enough to disturb Hedregon. Anna, too, looked worried,  
  
"Is it the Lady?"  
  
"Oh, she has me this time, Anna," Lisiael (no longer Rathien) choked. She grabbed Anna's shoulders, shaking her, "Anna, what should I do?"  
  
"Go!" Anna whispered hoarsely. "As fast as you can, just fly, Lisiael!"  
  
Lisiael flew. She flew directly into Hedregon and crashed to the ground. "You!"  
  
"Here, are you alright? Let me help you up -"  
  
"Please, I cannot stay!"  
  
"Meet me, then! In an hour's time, back here."  
  
"You do not understand. I won't be able to -"  
  
"Then I will see you when I will. Fate has chosen us."  
  
For a brief instant, Lisiael had changed back into Rathien, who whispered, "Yes, fate. We will meet again," with a smile. She reached her hand up to touch Hedregon's face, but pulled back suddenly, crying out before running past him through the trees.  
  
Hedregon ran after her, prepared to spy some more. 


	5. The Lady of Light

Hedregon ran after her, prepared to spy some more. She was very fast, and Hedregon had thought that he had lost her when he heard her voice.  
  
"Mother, no!" The sound came from above him, so Hedregon clambered up the nearest ladder and followed her voice to a circle balcony, where Lisiael stood with who must have been her mother across from her.  
  
"Lisiael, you heard me say very clearly to remain in your chambers. It was entirely unacceptable to have joined in that battle and you could have died!"  
  
"Please, mother, it is as I explained it to you,"  
  
"No daughter of mine will fight. Celebrían never had such a mad notion. Look at me! What color am I wearing?" A long pause followed.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"I don't want to keep doing this to you, Lisiael. You have to learn to obey me! This seems to be the best thing I have in my power to do."  
  
"Please, mother, don't! They mean everything to me!"  
  
"That's why they have to be destroyed." She bent down and set fire to a small pile of sticks and twigs, motioning for Lisiael to step forward. She did, although angrily, as though it was against her will. "Give them to me," her mother said, and Lisiael, once more reluctantly, handed her three knives, a quiver and a bow, all of which immediately were set fire to when placed upon the kindling.  
  
"Spare me the sword at least," she begged, holding it in its sheath to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Her mother gently pulled it from her arms and laid it in the flames, her daughter standing now with nothing to hold onto but crying all the same. As soon as the sword touched the fire, Hedregon saw that the flames, the kindling and the weapons had all disappeared, and in their place was simply a pile of white sand.  
  
Lisiael ran over to it, running her fingers through the sand, and moistening it with her tears. She tried to scoop it up in her palms and collect it in her dress, but the other Elf pulled her away,  
  
"Lisiael, please, it's for the best. Don't hurt yourself any more."  
  
Her daughter turned on her heel and ran, sobbing, up another staircase. Hedregon stepped forward.  
  
"Please," he said, startling both himself and Rathien's mother,  
  
"What business have you here?" She demanded, and then quickly realized, "You are the human from the harbor! Are you well now?"  
  
"Yes, I am, but I'm afraid I do not know who you are," he responded.  
  
"You do not know who I am? Then I have no reason to tell you. However, you were, all the same, spying on me and I demand an explanation."  
  
"My name is Hedregon, son of Denethor. I do apologize for spying; it was very wrong of me. Please forgive me."  
  
The lady smiled. "You are in love with Lisiael," she said, amused.  
  
Hedregon, baffled, stuttered, "Well, yes . . . I . . . how could you have read my mind? Is that power not granted solely to Elves of a higher rank?"  
  
The Elf in front of him seemed to find this conversation more and more comical as it went along, "Now I must tell you who I am. I am the Lady Galadriel of Light, and this forest is under my hand." Hedregon felt very silly, but she continued, "You are quite charming, son of Denethor. I can see the serenity in your eyes; you do not fight."  
  
"Well . . ." Hedregon confessed, "It is my profession but not my passion. I do it for the honor of my mother and father." He thought for a minute, while the Lady watched him do so; she was so kind and understanding now that she was not talking to Rathien, "Er . . . is it all right that I am in love with your daughter?"  
  
"Quite." And with the same secret smile, the Lady Galadriel left up the same stairs Rathien had. 


	6. Recovery Continued

He, too, was about to return to the healers when he saw the pile of sand for the second time. Feeling as if it was calling to him, Hedregon swept the grains into his pocket and swore to himself to make it into something special for Rathien.  
  
"Please do not stray off again," said an Elf Hedregon had never seen before as she stepped into his path, "Your inner wounds are not yet healed; come with me."  
  
Hedregon followed silently back to where he had woken up, this time able to climb the ladder without much pain.  
  
"Lie down," the Elf told him. He did so upon a bed of giant golden leaves, and watched the Elf. She crushed up a small handful of stones (to the amazement of Hedregon) with a pistol and mortar, and stirred them into a glass of pinkish water. She also cupped her hands around the thin air, and placed it in a bowl, stirring in bay leaves and bark until it had become a soft, powdery mixture. Placing the bowl, the cup and a few choice pieces of tree bark upon a silver tray, the Elf returned to Hedregon.  
  
"Be certain to drink every drop," she cautioned Hedregon, handing him the pink water with ground-up rocks in it. Not questioning her orders considering he was already on thin ice for wandering off, Hedregon swallowed the cold, stinging water in one gulp.  
  
"Does this make me fall asleep?" he asked, and the Elf laughed.  
  
"It is for your jaw, hand, legs, arm, nose and head; everywhere you have broken bones," she explained, "It will help to speed the healing."  
  
She then went on to work solely on Hedregon's head, the dent Sircyn had made with his metal boot. She placed the bark pieces on the scar, and blew upon that the powdery air-mixture. Of course Hedregon could not see what was happening, but by the time the Elf was finished, the searing pain in his head was greatly reduced and she allowed him to stand up.  
  
"I suggest you keep your distance from Lisiael," the Elf said abruptly.  
  
Hedregon started, "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"She is untamed. The Lady keeps her in line but only by force; for her own sake you should leave her be, out of pity if nothing else." The Elf looked sad, almost as if Rathien was the great tragedy of Lothlórien. "Please, have decency; don't break Lisiael's heart."  
  
"But I -" Hedregon began, but the Elf put her hand up and turned her head away.  
  
"It is likely you will hurt yourself also by getting involved with her. Apart from that, my duty is completed. You are free to leave Lórien."  
  
She left up another ladder, but Hedregon was now horrified. 'Leave Lórien!' he thought, 'How could I now that I have seen what my heart desires most?'  
  
Knowing what he must do, Hedregon picked up his bag and went to find the Queen of Lórien. She was not where various Elves had said she could be found, however. Instead there was an Elf of similar composure, who addressed Hedregon by name,  
  
"Hedregon son of Denethor, welcome," he said, "I am Celeborn, Lord of Lórien and extremely gracious to have in my presence one whom Galadriel finds so worthy of our daughter's time. You have come to ask me if you might stay here for some time although you are already healed, and I grant you that. Please, allow Haldir to find you someplace to stay temporarily."  
  
And with that he exited, leaving a very grumpy Elf with Hedregon. Haldir took him not far away, and showed him a triangular doorway in the trunk of one of the trees, explaining that Hedregon would stay there because mortals did not like heights.  
  
"Now it is near daybreak," he said, "but I will send for someone to wake you in time for supper. Celeborn insists that you eat at his table." Haldir left, and finally Hedregon was all alone.  
  
He took Haldir's advice of sleep, and dreamt a strange dream indeed. It was of Rathien, and a lot of Elves Hedregon had never seen before. She was in a small room when the door opened and beckoned her forward. Rising from her place on the floor, Hedregon noticed that she was dressed exactly as he had seen her that night, except now instead of an innocent white she wore black. As an Elf pestered her with questions she looked completely lost, with her head in her hand, her eyes shadowed over and not bothering to listen to the buzzing sound that was coming out of the Elf's mouth. 


	7. While Not at Supper

(A/N: All haters of Mary-Sues, GET OUT BEFORE IT GETS UGLY!)  
  
Someone shook Hedregon. He looked up to see two more Elves. The first one had thin platinum blonde hair, a silvery-green tunic and a kind face. The second one was very cheery, and she had straight blonde hair and a blue dress.  
  
"You are invited to join the Lady Galadriel for supper," The first Elf told Hedregon before introducing himself, "I am Unongleal, and this is Mela." Mela smiled sweetly and nodded her head.  
  
"I thank you for waking me," Hedregon said, "Shall I follow you?"  
  
Unongleal grinned and began walking, "You are a human, then?"  
  
"Without much choice. I was born this way."  
  
"I am sorry." He did truly sound sorry, also, even though Hedregon had been joking. From that point on Unongleal didn't say much to Hedregon; instead he conversed with the other Elf, Mela, in Elvish. Hedregon assumed that they didn't want him to hear what they said, so he escaped to his mental paradise until they woke him from it.  
  
The table was grand and long; marble yet dozens of feet in the air. Hedregon looked around for Rathien. She was sitting near the end, and appeared to be incredibly annoyed about something. If Hedregon didn't know any better, he'd have thought that she was forced to come. When she saw him, however, her eyes lit up once more and she sat upright. Hedregon went to sit down by her, with Unongleal and Mela following.  
  
"Greetings, Lise," said Unongleal cheerfully, sitting down beside her, "What is the matter?"  
  
"What is always the matter: Galadriel. Why does she do this to me?"  
  
"What is it now?" Unongleal asked, more seriously.  
  
Lisiael choked. "Tyuiwn, and my quiver, my bow, my knives . . ."  
  
"What did she do?" By now Unongleal's face was very serious.  
  
"She de - destroyed them." Rathien answered, clearly trying hard to keep a straight face.  
  
"Oh, Lise . . ." Unongleal put his hand on Rathien's shoulder. She nodded and suddenly became very interested in her wine glass.  
  
Unongleal sighed and turned back to Mela as Anna entered the scene, picking out Rathien and sitting down on the other side of her.  
  
"You are here, alive and well! This is good news indeed."  
  
"I'd rather be dead," Rathien answered. "Promise me you'll talk to me later."  
  
"I promise." Just then a chime rang, and Hedregon quickly took his seat across the table from Rathien. She seemed to be startled by this, and nervously went back to making circles on the rim of her wine glass.  
  
"I told you it was fate," he whispered hoarsely to her.  
  
She looked up and met his eyes, and Hedregon only fell in love with her all over again. She smiled shyly, "You did."  
  
"Would you like to leave?"  
  
Rathien trustfully nodded her head, and the two slipped off into the darkening shelter of the trees. 


	8. Dreamworld

Hedregon was a little nervous, for he had never brought anyone where he planned to bring Rathien, and he hoped that it would work.  
  
"Stop," he said, listening carefully to see if anyone was about. Then, cautiously, he took Rathien's hands in his. "I want to show you someplace, but no one spare I have ever been there. You must trust me, Rathien."  
  
"Rathien?" She asked curiously.  
  
"Well, yes, I -"  
  
"Thank you. What may I call you?"  
  
"Pardon, maiden, I apologize. My name is Hedregon son of Denethor."  
  
"Hedregon . . ." Rathien tasted the word. By the blissful look on her face it tasted delicious and rich; it melted like sugar on her tongue. Hedregon looked at the starlight reflect upon her face, and kissed her, first timidly then passionately, and she let him.  
  
Then, placing his hand down over her eyes, Hedregon held Rathien's hands and entered his Dreamworld. Behind the glistening silver gates, he could see that it was a beautiful day, filled with pure daylight flirtatiously mingling with moon dust. There were sparrows, lilies, tall grasses, and a cool air with a strong warm breeze. It swept across the hills and lakes, smelling of light but thick mace and jasmine. After he took all of this in, Hedregon realized that Rathien was beside him. He bent over to her ear and whispered,  
  
"Open your eyes."  
  
Hedregon could not begin to imagine what it was like for Rathien to see this world for the first time; he had built it from scratch and saw it as an escape path in progress. He wished that he could have something fantastical and unseen in his Dreamworld, but didn't know how to create what he did not know.  
  
Rathien stepped through the gates in awe. She touched them as she went past, then touched the grass and the earth. She ran her fingers along the tips of the glass-like blades of grass and wondered at how they melted at her touch.  
  
"I am in a dream," she said sadly, "Soon I will open my eyes to what is true, and feel heavier because I'll know what I have lost."  
  
"No, no," Hedregon assured her, "It is not real, that I give you. But I come here often, and it cannot be destroyed. This is my Dreamworld, my haven. I welcome you, and invite you to stay as long as you will."  
  
Rathien smiled unsurely, and Hedregon's feet began to move. He didn't know where he was going, but his mind was set loose and free and his feet kept urging him onward. He shrugged at Rathien and took her hand; she followed.  
  
Whatever forces were on hand led them to river, where a boat sat waiting patiently.  
  
"I have never been here," he admitted.  
  
"Neither I," she said as he helped her into the boat. They sailed across the river to what seemed to be an island, and followed a glittering path to a gazebo in the middle of the woods, forged entirely out of intertwining silver-tinted vines. The moonlight shone through the top of it, and the sight of it briefly took away Hedregon's breath. They didn't go in, but stood gazing first at it, then at each other.  
  
"You are so beautiful," Hedregon said, "I am so in love."  
  
"As am I," Rathien responded, "Why did you do that to me?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Made me fall in love with you. It is not fair."  
  
"I apologize, I could not help it, I guess. If it is your desire, I cannot take back my love but I will leave. I do not wish to, though. I want to be here with you."  
  
"It is too late for any changes. I, also, am madly in love with you." She paused, "My father told me once to restrict my use of the word 'love.' What do you believe?"  
  
"I believe that restricting love puts a harness on your life. But, Rathien?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I want to kiss you again. Not just now, but forever until I die, and even then with you in me, I never really will."  
  
"Please, then, kiss me. It takes away the pain."  
  
So he kissed her. He kissed her until neither one of them could breathe and then they danced. Through the trees and under the gleaming moon, into another wide open meadow of the liquid grass. They lay down and looked at the stars. The thousands of stars seemed to be telling Hedregon one thing: that his life had taken a turn for the better. He could stay in Caras Galathon with Rathien; he would never have to answer to early call or even touch his sword.  
  
Then it hit him. Elves were immortal. Rathien would live on as Lisiael for hundreds of lifetimes after he died. He would be there for some time, then forsaken and forgotten forever.  
  
"Rathien?" He asked, turning his head to look at her, but she was already asleep. He put his arm around her and pressed himself next to her so that the lengths of their bodies were together. Then Hedregon fell asleep himself. 


	9. Return to Reality

When he awoke, he was back in Lothlórien and Rathien was gone.  
  
"The soldiers took her away an hour ago," a curt voice said, guessing Hedregon's thoughts.  
  
"Did they wake her up?" Hedregon asked Anna anxiously.  
  
"Lisiael?" Anna laughed, "It would have been impossible not to. No, she left kicking and screaming. I was surprised you didn't wake up."  
  
"You! Did you have anything to do with this?"  
  
"I? I would never betray Lisiael. Besides, I can tell that she was meant to find you. The sharpshooters took her. It must have been Lady Galadriel's orders."  
  
"It cannot be. She is most kind and generous."  
  
"Kind! Generous! Mortals are blunt, aren't they? The Lady has never been kind or generous to Lisiael. She took the color from her sight, locked her away from sunlight, made her speechless, destroyed her best sword and put her under various spells to keep her 'controlled' to the point where her eyes become foggy from loss of so many basic functions."  
  
"I think she has a true heart," Hedregon insisted, "she told me that she would allow me to court Lisiael."  
  
Anna laughed, a sound of chimes and her red hair fell to the side. "A true heart in all but her youngest daughter, whom she treats despicably."  
  
"What makes you so all-knowing?" Hedregon didn't think he liked Anna.  
  
"I am sorry, I did not introduce myself. I am Verianna. Lisiael is my friend."  
  
"My name is Hedregon," he offered.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So do you want to see Lisiael or not?"  
  
"What?! Wait, yes, yes, of course."  
  
"Follow me, then." Perhaps Anna wasn't so terrible.  
  
She walked him back to his temporary establishment, the hollowed out tree.  
  
"Go in, and stay there," she said. Hedregon did not understand why he had to do this, but followed Anna's advice.  
  
Unongleal stepped out from behind the tree, "Make sure he stays in the tree," Anna warned Unongleal, and darted away.  
  
Unongleal turned to Hedregon, "Ah, the mortal." He acknowledged in much colder manner than he had the night before.  
  
Hedregon grudgingly nodded, "Is Verianna setting me up for something?"  
  
"Anna? Her heart is pure and faithful. I have quite a bit to say to you, however."  
  
"I?"  
  
"Aye. I want to know what you did to Lisiael. We looked for her all night, and when we found her, she was asleep . . . in your arms! You met the girl yesterday, human! How could you have the indecency to bed her?"  
  
"I beg your pardon, but I did no such thing!"  
  
"What, pray tell then, were you doing?" Unongleal looked furious.  
  
"She fell asleep! I lay down next to her!"  
  
Unongleal searched Hedregon's eyes. "We were in the same place you found us all along! I took her to my Dreamworld, so we did not really leave to go anywhere."  
  
"Believe me, I will ask Lisiael about this."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
The two glared at one another for some time before Hedregon decided that he should not make enemies in a foreign land.  
  
"I am sorry . . . I do not like being accused of what I did not do."  
  
Unongleal sighed, "It is all right. Ah! Mela!" he cried as Mela came out of the shadows.  
  
"Greetings, and to you, also, son of Denethor."  
  
Unongleal interrupted. "Hedregon, step this way a bit."  
  
Hedregon did so, just as Rathien dropped to the ground behind him inside the tree and stood up. She brushed herself off.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------  
  
A year passed. Hedregon sent a letter to his brothers explaining where he was. They corresponded frequently, and Hedregon began to miss them all dearly. He began sleeping in a tree like the Elves. He and Rathien had expanded his Dreamworld beyond any borders; she began to put animals it, squirrels, fireflies, rabbits, and coyotes.  
  
Hedregon was never accused of sleeping with Rathien again, and they were both scared of the outcome if they ever did sleep with one another. In fact, the human - Elf scenario did not agree with most of the Elves in Caras Galathon. Of course, Galadriel, Celeborn and Verianna were alright with it, and Unongleal didn't say anything. All of this mattered very little to Rathien and Hedregon. Everything he had ever wanted in life he found in her, and she at least said that she loved him, also.  
  
In August, however, Hedregon received a letter with ill tidings from Faramir:  
  
Brother, I have bad news, and no time to ask you how you are. I had tried my best to keep Boromir from Bevolen and Sircyn, but Bevolen provoked him; it was not really Boromir's fault if you look at it properly. I do not know the exact course of events, but in the end Boromir was raving mad and Bevolen was dead. Now of course there isn't a soul in the city who cares for Bevolen, so his death went unnoticed, but I think it is fair time that you came back to visit, if for no other reason to restore Boromir to his sanity. Fly, Faramir 


	10. Home Again

Hedregon immediately decided that he must go, but then thought of Rathien. His first thought was for her to join him, but he had not told his brothers about her. He felt that a girlfriend who was an Elf should be kept a secret; Elves were not thought of highly in Minas Tirith.  
  
"Rathien," he started,  
  
"Aye?"  
  
"I have been summoned back to my home. I want you to come with me, but . . ." Hedregon hesitated. He knew Rathien would not like this, ". . . as a human."  
  
"A human?!"  
  
"Well, yes. You could disguise yourself, and I could do what I need to there and we would be back here most quickly."  
  
"Hedregon that is folly. I really do not care if people dislike me for being an Elf."  
  
Hedregon sighed, "Very well. Shall we ask Galadriel?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I would feel better if at least I told her where we were going."  
  
"Well thought, just go alone."  
  
"Lise, you haven't spoken to your mother in a year."  
  
"Your teatime conversations with her make up for my absent ones."  
  
"Lise . . ."  
  
"Please hurry; I'll miss you!" So Hedregon left to speak to Galadriel alone, as usual. She and Celeborn were in their thrones this afternoon.  
  
"My Lady, I come to you seeking agreement on a matter."  
  
"What is it, Hedregon?" The Lady Galadriel answered.  
  
"I received this letter from my youngest brother this afternoon, and he wishes me to return to Minas Tirith for a spell."  
  
"Hedregon," Galadriel laughed, "you know that you are free to leave any time you please."  
  
"I was hoping that Lisiael might join me."  
  
Celeborn gave Hedregon a look that told him it was hopeless, but Galadriel smiled and nodded her head.  
  
"She may?"  
  
"Certainly, if she is with you. Please keep her out of trouble."  
  
Hedregon thanked the Lady profusely and ran to tell Rathien the news. Rathien didn't seem to think that it mattered either way, but Hedregon was reassured to have the permission of Galadriel.  
  
They left the next day, by way of the same boat Hedregon had come in. Secretly in his eyes it was a comfort object, reminding him of the care his brothers had given him and his old home. Since traveling downstream was much quicker, they reached the place Hedregon had sailed away from in two days.  
  
He offered her his hand as she stepped out of the boat and she graciously accepted it, both of them knowing she could get out of the boat perfectly fine on her own. It was the simplicity of enchantment that kept them gazing into each other's eyes as if their minds would shut down if their eyes ever closed.  
  
Faramir met them. Hedregon was ecstatic to see his youngest brother again; he didn't ever want to let go as they embraced.  
  
"I would like you to meet Lisiael," he introduced, "Rathien, this is my youngest brother, Faramir."  
  
Faramir had never met an Elf in his life, and Rathien was so beautiful that he nearly toppled backwards. Of course she really was not, but as Faramir's first Elf-sighting, Rathien glowed. "Lady," seemed to be all he could choke out as he kissed her hand.  
  
"The resemblance between you and your brother is amazing," Rathien whispered to Hedregon as she allowed her hand to be kissed by Faramir. Faramir quickly regained himself.  
  
"This way," he explained.  
  
The tunnel he had created was wondrous indeed. It consisted of a trap door hidden under leaves and an underground passageway which led directly into the tunnel.  
  
Rathien untrustingly pulled out one of her knives. She had gotten three new ones from more battles she had snuck off to, and Hedregon had nearly paid her to take his sword away. Her quiver and bow she had swiped out of the Galadrim artillery store.  
  
The tunnel led the three up a flight of stairs and into a warm, sheltered building.  
  
"This is my home," Hedregon told Rathien as she looked around in disgust.  
  
The walls were stone and high, the floor was hard and there was barely any light. Hedregon had to admit that it was not very welcoming, but he had missed it so much that he got nostalgia from simply being there.  
  
This was the dining hall in which he had spent so much sacred time wasting away with each attempt to sit up straight and to eat properly. "Be a role model to your brothers," Denethor had told him, and he hadn't particularly cared either way.  
  
"Is Denethor awake?" Hedregon asked Faramir.  
  
"It is unlikely."  
  
"Very well. I will thank him in the morning. So where are you hiding me? Where can Lisiael go?"  
  
Faramir sighed. "I haven't worked out where you will stay yet, so for now you will have to lay low in Boromir's room." He turned to Lisiael, "Lisiael, is it? Here, Ellie will show you to your room."  
  
A young woman led Lisiael away. Hedregon gawked at Faramir.  
  
"No, no, do not worry," Faramir reassured his brother, "She will not say anything. She doesn't speak to any of the other servants. I'm not sure why."  
  
"I'll trust you on that, but what of me? Boromir will be furious with us if he wakes up to find me in his chambers!"  
  
"It's alright. Just sleep on a mattress we prepared behind the table. He has call before dawn, so he'll never see you. Until we can break this to him slowly."  
  
"Thank you, brother," Hedregon said as he embraced Faramir, "Until the morrow." He made his way to Boromir's room, and fell asleep promptly. 


	11. What Sircyn Left Behind

He dreamt that he was surrounded by darkness, except for a knife on the ground between him and Rathien. She stepped on it, and he was wrenched out of her arms, sailing away backwards through the air until he hit something cold and hard with his skull. Then he woke up.  
  
Rathien was in the room, frantically shaking Boromir. Hedregon knew that he and his brothers were practically identical, but this would be too comical to pass by, so Hedregon quietly watched the scene from across the room.  
  
"Hedregon," Rathien was saying, "I had a terrible dream." By now Boromir was awake and looking at the shadow in front of him. None of them could see that well in the dark. "You were there," she continued, "but you kept telling me to break something, and when I did you flew away!" She threw her arms around Boromir's neck and wept.  
  
Now Hedregon pitied them both, so he pretended to yawn and wake up from the noise. "Rathien?" he questioned.  
  
Rathien jolted, suppressing a scream. "Hedregon . . . you . . . who is that?" She finally said, pointing at the bed.  
  
"Hedregon?" Boromir gasped, "I though I would never see you again! How are you?" Then he remembered. "Hedregon . . . you shouldn't be here. It isn't safe! And who is she?"  
  
"This is Lisiael," Hedregon introduced. Rathien looked horrified at what had just happened. "And, Rathien, this is my other brother, Boromir."  
  
"Aha!" Boromir breathed, "So it was Faramir who brought you here. I suppose you have heard the entire account of my meeting with Bevolen?"  
  
"What else would have brought me into this trap of a city? Oh, never mind all of this. I want to go to sleep."  
  
In the morning, Boromir woke Hedregon up early, inviting Hedregon to join him on his rounds. Hedregon accepted, but inquired where Rathien was.  
  
"She has been up for quite some time now," Boromir explained, "with Denethor. He enjoys her company, and she his. It is actually quite comical to see the two together."  
  
Hedregon laughed and followed his brother to his post. "What drove you to the extreme measure with Bevolen?"  
  
Boromir sighed, "He was pushing around his younger sister, as usual. She works in the palace, so I ordered her inside as an excuse for her to get away from Bevolen. She actually didn't seem that happy about it, but obliged. Bevolen was furious. He called out, and Sircyn and he cornered me by the gates. Then they started telling me things about you, things I don't know are true and if they are I didn't know."  
  
"What things did they say?" Hedregon urgently interrupted.  
  
"I do not wish to repeat them here."  
  
"Boromir!"  
  
"Bevolen told me that his sister was going to have a baby, and that it was to be yours."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"He said that before 'you' killed all of those people you planned on killing his sister so that no news would get around."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"His sister hates you, Hedregon. There is no doubt she would stand by whatever her brother said. She has more than one reason to do so."  
  
"Who is this girl?"  
  
"A servant in our house. I take it then that this is not true?"  
  
"Boromir!"  
  
"Pardon my asking, brother. I shall at least tell you the rest of my tale, then. Bevolen started telling me about two children, two brothers. He said that they had been pupils of yours and that you had betrayed them; their parents were murdered in the massacre last year. He laughed, saying that he was raising them on his own now, and that they would grow up to hate you and find you and kill you."  
  
"Gediwer . . . Rojwer." Hedregon breathed. He had to get them away from Sircyn and Bevolen. No wait, Bevolen was dead; just Sircyn.  
  
"Hedregon are these children real? Are you acquainted with them?" Boromir asked sternly.  
  
"Pardon, brother, but I must leave!" Hedregon cried, and ran off towards the city.  
  
Too late; he knew he was from the time he started running. Through the streets and alleys, back to the one place he had never wanted to go again: the house of Sircyn. Bevolen would have taken great pleasure in shaping Gediwer and Rojwer into hateful minds and powerful bodies, but Bevolen was dead.  
  
The house was still as if nothing could breathe in it. Hedregon felt as though every time he exhaled, he brought fresh air into the stale air that already occupied every corner of the house. Old, rotting wood made up the entire structure, including the furniture and every object in it. Hedregon entered the bedroom.  
  
Rojwer was in the middle of the room, sprawled out across the straw mattress and Gediwer was on the floor next to him; both of them, dead.  
  
Hedregon knew it was the inevitable. All the same, he bent down and picked up each boy, one in each arm. Gediwer was ten years old when Hedregon had left; he must now be eleven. Always trying to make people laugh, never taking anything seriously and loving his life the way it was; the only thing Gediwer had ever taken seriously was taking care of his older brother. Rojwer was handicapped, fifteen - sixteen now - but with a child- like mind. He saw what was true in everything, and although younger in thoughts than his brother, he was much more serious. He rarely spoke, and when he did it was brilliant. Most people, including his parents, had thought that Rojwer was an idiot, but he saw and understood more than anyone Hedregon knew.  
  
In a robotic state, Hedregon carried his two young friends far out of the city, and there he dug them a hole where they would hopefully be safer from this cruel world. He laid their small bodies down into it, and noticed that Rojwer's shoulders had been broadening. He was turning into a man without even knowing it, probably. Rojwer had rarely noticed himself. Hedregon covered the grave with dirt, and watered it with his tears as if it would bring them back to life.  
  
It wasn't even until Hedregon had gone back into the palace through Faramir's tunnel that he thought how mechanically he had preformed the task of burying Rojwer and Gediwer. He didn't weep any more, though. He did not want for Lisiael to see him and he wanted instead to repay Sircyn for the horrifying murder of two innocent boys. This was unlike Hedregon to no extent, to want revenge, and he couldn't figure out why he did now.  
  
He went into the washroom and took off his shirt, throwing it into the fireplace before submerging his arms in the water basin and swirling them around. He didn't want dead boy on him. He didn't want to be able to carry around the fact that he had barely any friends, and now two of them were dead.  
  
Hedregon found a new shirt and put it on as Boromir entered the room.  
  
"Who are these children, Hedregon?" Boromir asked.  
  
"They're dead."  
  
"Dead?!" Boromir exclaimed.  
  
"It's all your fault, you know," Hedregon said, trying to make it a joke.  
  
"My -"  
  
"I'm kidding. Sircyn poisoned them. I don't blame you."  
  
"Hedregon," Boromir said, reaching to put his arm around his brother's shoulder, "I am so sorry. I didn't think that killing Bevolen would hurt you."  
  
Hedregon shrugged away from his brother's embrace and mumbled "it's fine," before leaving the room. 


	12. Mortal

He found Rathien in the throne room, kneeling at Denethor's chair and looking up at him with more admiration than he had seen Rathien look at anyone, even Unongleal or Anna. Denethor was talking, something Hedregon had never found interesting, but Rathien seemed to find it fascinating. Rathien saw Hedregon and excused herself, walking over to him.  
  
"Your father is amazing," she said.  
  
This thought had never crossed Hedregon's mind. Ever. Denethor was just his father, and that was that. He was glad, though, that Rathien liked him. He still wanted to do something special for her . . . something with the sandy ashes of her old weaponry. Just as Rathien turned to go back to talking to Denethor, Hedregon got the idea that he would use the sand to make her a new weapon. What kind of weapon would be made of glass, though? Glass was all that Hedregon could turn the sand into, and it would break if she tried to use it.  
  
Then again . . . it could just be for ornamental purposes. Did Elves even own things for ornamental purposes? Probably not, but Hedregon was already attached to his new idea. It would be a knife, for that was Rathien's favorite weapon choice, and he would carve a wooden hilt with wood from the white tree of Gondor.  
  
He had no idea how to do this; Hedregon was never able to make things the way he wanted them to turn out. All the same, he wanted to try this; for Rathien.  
  
Shaping the blade was easier than Hedregon thought it would be. In fact, it turned out perfect to Hedregon's eyes. It was a clear glass blade, somehow sharp and symmetric. The handle also turned out quite beautifully, white and clean next to the crystal blade. The hardest part for Hedregon was that he wanted to write something on it for Rathien; it was easy to compose for him, but less so to translate. He didn't know Elvish, yet wanted to have the inscription written in it. Hedregon stayed up all night with books of all sorts, translating the simple phrase he had written.  
  
When he was done, Hedregon stood back to admire his work. Somehow, miraculously, it really did look perfect. Too perfect; Hedregon decided that he should give it some fault or it could rule over Rathien and himself. He tried to indent the wood with his fingernail. The knife slipped, and cut Hedregon on the finger. A single drop of blood fell onto the knife and sat for a moment before seeping into the glass blade. Impossible, yes, for blood cannot seep into glass no matter what the circumstance. And yet, the blade was no longer clear. Inside the glass now seemed to be a cloudy rose-tinted fog, circling around as if the inside was hollow. Hedregon chose to ignore this, and in his defense, the knife never physically harmed him.  
  
Hedregon carefully plotted out giving Rathien the knife. He caught her that night on her way to bed, sneaking up from behind her and putting one hand on over her mouth and one hand over her eyes.  
  
"Let's go," he said, and so their minds escaped to Hedregon's utopian Dreamworld.  
  
The very first time Rathien had entered Hedregon's Dreamworld, they had seen a beautiful gazebo made solely from intertwined branches, leaves and twigs from the surrounding trees. They had stopped short of the clearing it was in, and talked, then forgotten about it. Now Hedregon led Rathien to the same gazebo, this time leading her under its canopy as well.  
  
Rathien played along, wondering at the magical twinkling of the moon as he shone through the leaves in little specks, which reflected on both of their faces.  
  
"Rathien," Hedregon said, all of a sudden nervous, "I have something for you." He reached into the large pocket of his coat and produced the knife, knowing that it had not broken. The drop of his blood that had entered the knife had fulfilled the promise of the inscription. Rathien's eyes opened wide.  
  
"It's beautiful," she breathed, then read the inscription out loud, "Love is ours and ours alone; like this knife it cannot break. And if tomorrow we both die, I will still love you, forever and ever more until its blade lies in shards upon the sand."  
  
Rathien didn't say anything; she just stared at the knife. She stared at it for what seemed like hours, and then a tear ran down her cheek.  
  
"Hedregon," she dared, "I love you. Do you love me? And I do not mean I- love-you love. Do you really love me, to the point where you would give anything for me?"  
  
"I would give you my life if you asked it of me," Hedregon said honestly. He meant it, "I love you Rathien, and nothing can stop me, not even you. You read the inscription on the knife; even if I die, I'll love you. No force on earth can stop me, not hate, nor war, nor death."  
  
Rathien nodded, satisfied, and another tear graced her cheek.  
  
"Why are you crying, Rathien?" Hedregon asked.  
  
She looked up at him and smiled through her tears. "Give me your hand," she said, trying to keep her voice clear through the tears choking up her throat.  
  
Hedregon gave Rathien his left hand. She took the knife, which Hedregon thought was not functional, and cut a shape into his palm. He flinched, and tried to pull back his hand, but Rathien held it firmly until she was done cutting. Hedregon looked at his palm; the shape was that of two circles, forever linked now in his skin. His hand was throbbing, but Rathien did the same to her right hand, her now many tears diluting the blood on her hand.  
  
She took her bloody hand and the same of Hedregon's, and lined them up against one another, pressing her hand into his. Before Hedregon knew it, he was pushing his hand into Rathien's also, and their feet were no longer touching the ground, literally. They were suspended a foot above it, in fact, and the iridescent glow which always seemed to be hovering around Rathien was being sucked away.  
  
They fell to the ground together, and Hedregon looked at Rathien. He couldn't figure out what had just happened, but she no longer shone as she did when he had first seen her. Quickly correcting himself that Rathien was just as beautiful, Hedregon realized that she was almost more so, for now, without the glow surrounding her, Hedregon could see Rathien without any reflection. He could see her eyes and her cheeks and her lips.  
  
Hedregon waited for nearly thirty minutes before Rathien's eyes fluttered and opened. Her tears were now dry, but as she struggled against her weight to sit upright, another tear fell.  
  
"What just happened, Rathien?" Hedregon asked.  
  
Rathien gave him a bittersweet smile. "I am mortal," she said.  
  
And as two mortals finally allowed themselves to make sweet and eternal love to one another, back in Middle Earth the spiritual world was colliding with the living one. Bevolen was killed by Boromir, but he was not through with what his intense hatred wanted to achieve. He pushed for hours and hours until the barrier between the two worlds was broken, although only for him, and his spirit entered Minas Tirith once more.  
  
He could see only blurs and shapes above ground, but beneath it where the bodies of those no longer living resided he could see as clear as day. Bevolen's spirit searched until he found his two young disciples, Gediwer and Rojwer. The boys had annoyed him in life, but now he needed their bodies. Not strong enough to fully control one of them, Bevolen found that he had to use both of Hedregon's young friends in order to obtain physical form. Thankfully, his imbecile friend Sircyn had used poison to kill them, and so they were entirely intact.  
  
With two new bodies and a more determined spirit than ever, Bevolen hid deep in the forests near Minas Tirith and set to work. He had much to do.  
  
I OWN NOTHING HERE THAT YOU THINK CONNECTS TO TOLKIEN. GET IT? GOT IT? GOOD! Oh, and I posted a review to answer any questions that were posed. 


	13. Nostalgia

Hedregon wanted to feel nostalgic; he wanted to wander the streets of Minas Tirith and look through the windows of strangers' houses in hopes of experiencing glimpses of his former life, the one before the massacre. He had never missed it before; he had spent most of his life in Minas Tirith sinking into the Dreamworld with which his other reality disappeared. Now he saw the walls on which he had leaned, and held onto their memory. He brushed his finger against the bricks, over and over until it was numb, and let his weight fall against the wall trying to remember how he felt the last time he was there. It brought butterflies to his stomach and a lightness to his head, but he didn't remember the view.  
  
Hedregon's eyes welled up with tears at the realization of this, but he wasn't given much time to be sentimental. A middle-aged woman with a chubby toddler on her hip was talking rapidly to a small boy inside one of the houses across the muddy street. The boy looked at Hedregon, nodded, and left the window. Hedregon heard a door slam and the boy's feet racing off in the direction of the palace. It took Hedregon a minute to realize what was happening, and when he did, he bolted as well. He hadn't told Faramir or Boromir where he was going; even Faramir would have objected if he'd found out that Hedregon was venturing outside the palace's walls. He didn't make it very far, though. Having had run towards the palace, the soldiers on guard ran from it. A burly soldier caught Hedregon roughly around the arm and threw him to the ground.  
  
"So it's true," another one said, "the bastard really is alive."  
  
The first soldier pulled Hedregon up by his collar, then hit him in the jaw so that he fell down again. "You killed my father," he said, kicking Hedregon in the face with all of his might.  
  
"Let's go," a third soldier said, as two more pulled Hedregon's arms behind his back and started to drag him away. Hedregon's head fell and his body slumped over.  
  
"I think he's knocked out," a soldier said.  
  
"Good," another responded, "for all he's done, he deserves to bleed." A fist shifted the placement of Hedregon's nose, followed by another hit, which landed underneath his ribs and knocked the wind out of him. Hedregon son of Denethor blacked out before they reached the first gate.  
  
He woke up that evening on a cold stone floor. Immediately surveying any damage, Hedregon found that he was actually quite well. His nose was broken as was his jaw, but other than that he was perfectly fine. He was in the same cell as he had been a year ago, the very end one.  
  
Rathien! He had to get out, no matter what it took. She must have heard; she must be terrified. Thoughts of what was happening and what needed to happen rushed through Hedregon's head as if it were a wind tunnel. He jumped up and inspected the lock. He'd never break it; it was cast iron. The only window was a small opening at the top of the door. Hedregon began to pace, then realized that in every good fantasy story there were secret passageways. There must be one in the cell; he just had to find it. Hedregon began running his fingers over each stone in the wall, every crack and fissure. All of his pushing, pulling and looking did nothing, however. Still Hedregon did not realize that his life was not a fantasy story.  
  
He ran from side to side of the dungeon cell, slamming his body into the opposite wall and the door. There was always a way. Never had Hedregon read a story in which the hero did not escape. He had to find the way, because there had to be one. For the next five minutes, he continued to bruise his shoulders and back from forcing his weight against the door and walls. They didn't even budge.  
  
Confused and slightly bashed that what was supposed to happen wasn't, Hedregon sank into a corner and thought. Perhaps if he had some form of tinder, then he could start a fire and burn away his bindings, but there was nothing. Then it came to him . . . he could yell! Someone was bound to hear him and then they would hear his story, understand, and assist him in his escape! Perhaps even another prisoner, one who knew how to escape.  
  
Filled with romantic ecstasy, he began to wildly jump up and down, shouting "help" at the top of his lungs. It would be any moment now, that someone would come to his rescue.  
  
Hedregon's imagination was not entirely wrong, nor was it correct. Within seconds of him yelling for help did his younger brother barrel into him, pinning him against the wall and pushing his hand against Hedregon's mouth so hard that his head hit the stone behind him and he temporarily lost his vision.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Faramir demanded furiously.  
  
Hedregon said nothing; how could he with Faramir keeping his hand over half of Hedregon's face?  
  
"You're a bloody imbecile! Go, go! Hurry!" Faramir hissed through his rage. He practically shoved Hedregon through the now open cell door and into another wall. At least, Hedregon thought that it was a wall at first. He supposed that it used to be a wall, but apparently Faramir's underground tunnel led to more than one place. As soon as they reached the other side of the hidden door, Faramir sealed it shut once more and released Hedregon from his angry grasp.  
  
"Incredible!" Hedregon exclaimed, ignoring his brother's fury. "You never mentioned this, but it's amazing. At this point, he was half-jesting, still ensnared by the romance of his story-like escape. Laughing, he said, "I bow to my rescuer."  
  
Faramir spun around and slapped Hedregon in the face. His expression was set, silent but powerful rage. By the look in his eyes, Hedregon thought that his brother could have murdered him right there, but Faramir just continued to stare at Hedregon, who was still in shock from being slapped by his younger brother.  
  
"Faramir, why -" He started, but Faramir cut him off.  
  
"Wake up, Hedregon! This is not one of your stories. Your romantic idiocy is going to kill you if you keep it up. Come down to earth. I just saved your bloody life for the second time; you're lucky as hell that worked. We're all sick of this . . . this dread every time you do this that it'll be your last!"  
  
That was when Hedregon realized that Faramir was crying. Tears were streaming down his face as he yelled at Hedregon and it reminded Hedregon of Rathien when she forsook her immortality for his love. It had never been difficult for Hedregon to love people as it seemed to be for Rathien and Faramir, or was it just that Hedregon was not an easy person to love? Startled by this, Hedregon put his hand on Faramir's shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."  
  
Faramir shook his head. "That's not important now," he said, "Let's go. Boromir has your things, and we need to get you back upriver as soon as possible."  
  
"And Rathien - er, Lisiael?"  
  
"Ah, the Elf. I found her and told her to meet you at the river."  
  
Hedregon closed his eyes and pretended that he could see Rathien right then. She would throw her arms around him and would be able to feel her weight once more upon his chest. Before long, he had his possessions and had greeted Rathien; his imagination having been right. Boromir had had a few colorful, choice words for Hedregon's "stunt," but Hedregon looked forward to the tranquility of the boat ride back to Lórien. 


	14. Consequences

Rathien slept most of the way, happily curled up at the bottom of the canoe, something that Hedregon could not understand since she was an Elf and Elves needed very little actual sleep. All the same, they were blessed with the sun and little current.  
  
At the harbor of Lothlórien, Hedregon and Rathien were greeted by Eilliuyn. Well, actually Hedregon was greeted by Eilliuyn and Rathien was shot a hurt look. She led them through the forest of trees and Elves, looking as if she was trying very hard not to glance back at the two.  
  
Rathien looked terrified. Her eyes scanned the faces of Elves as if she had never met them before, the surroundings as if she was a stranger there. In Hedregon's opinion, she looked like a stranger in Lórien, but he didn't tell her.  
  
"I don't belong here anymore," Lisiael whispered to Hedregon, no longer Rathien.  
  
"This is your home," he whispered back, "You will always belong here."  
  
Lisiael looked away. Eilliuyn glanced over her shoulder at Lisiael, appearing confused that she looked so desolate. Hedregon watched this, and wondered what the relationship was between the two. They obviously knew each other, but Eilliuyn seemed to mirror Lisiael; they were both sad and alone, even though they each held companions. Something used to be there, Hedregon decided, but it has been destroyed by some ulterior force. Hedregon couldn't guess what.  
  
Eilliuyn led the two directly to the Lady Galadriel and stood in the background, watching the scene with open eyes. When Galadriel saw Lisiael, she froze. Celeborn turned to Galadriel, and she looked into his eyes, causing Celeborn to choke, and back into his throne-like chair.  
  
The Lady of Light bowed her head. Lisiael clutched Hedregon's hand. He looked at Galadriel, who had raised her head and walked over to Lisiael. She held her daughter's hand, where the scar signifying her mortality would forever be, and allowed one of her tears to fall upon it.  
  
"Come, children," Galadriel said, and led Hedregon and Lisiael up a winding white staircase. Celeborn remained behind, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably as he sobbed into this hand.  
  
Galadriel knelt down on the floor of a room whose only walls were trees, and invited Lisiael and Hedregon to do the same.  
  
"Mother," Lisiael started, for the first time in a full year speaking to Galadriel.  
  
"Celebrían is dying," Galadriel said softly. Hedregon knew from what he had heard that Celebrían was Lisiael's beloved older sister. She was in the Grey Havens, miles beyond miles away from Lothlórien.  
  
"Dying?" Lisiael choked, much like a small child.  
  
"She cannot sustain herself without Elrond at her side; her love for him is tearing her apart. It is likely that he will not be able to travel to the Grey Havens in time for her to be able to still live."  
  
Lisiael's hand was now crushing that of Hedregon's.  
  
Galadriel pulled a jar with clear liquid sloshing around in it from her robes. "With this elixir," she whispered, "I may lose one of you, but you will never lose each other. Pour it into the soil of your home, not this home, but the true home you both hold through the other one. Pour it into the soil and drink from its pool. The only pact you shall hold shall be between you, for you owe nothing to anyone else."  
  
She handed the jar to Lisiael, with the other hand lifting her chin so that the two could see one another.  
  
"Lisiael," Galadriel said, and embraced her daughter. Lisiael, to Hedregon's surprise and joy, returned the embrace. 


	15. What Will Come

THIS IS IT! THIS IS THE VERY LAST CHAPTER!  
  
Rathien and Hedregon left Galadriel feeling extremely off-balance. They followed Galadriel's instructions as she had given them, though. Once in Hedregon's Dreamworld, he dug a small hole in the earth and poured the elixir into it. It disappeared almost immediately, but left a massive crater where he had placed it, causing Hedregon and Rathien to need to leap back, away from it.  
  
That was all that happened, although they watched for anything else. So the two went to sleep and to their troubled dreams. The next morning, the crater was filled with a glassy, silver-like water up to the brim.  
  
"She told us to drink it," Hedregon said, nervously.  
  
"I know," Rathien nodded, looking equally cautious.  
  
"She said that . . . that even if one of us dies, we will always be able to be together in this place." Hedregon paused. "Does she really want us to do this?" he asked.  
  
"She is always correct. She must have foreseen something. I . . . a while back, a few centuries ago, she told me that I would meet my death in battle. She has been trying to keep me from it ever since . . . this might mean something else."  
  
"So what does this mean?" Hedregon was getting very anxious now.  
  
"It could mean anything . . ." Rathien looked at him, and he realized.  
  
"Shall we, though?" he said seriously, pointing to the pool.  
  
Rathien thought, then nodded. Hedregon ventured first, cupping some of the silky liquid in his hands and bringing it to his lips. It tasted like . . . nothing, really. He would have thought it was air if he didn't look down into his hands and see that it had all gone because he had drunk it.  
  
Rathien quizzed him on what it had tasted like, then had some herself. She seemed to be thinking that it was as strange as Hedregon had thought it was. So this was it, Hedregon assumed. They were now both immortal in his Dreamworld. Was that even possible? Hedregon had no idea, but he had to wonder . . . immortality did not feel much like much difference from mortality.  
  
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The next time that Hedregon would enter Lórien would be one decade and one year later. He would be laughing and joking with Rathien as they walked past the massive trees and breathed in the sunlight. Their joy, however, would be short-lived.  
  
Unongleal and Anna would run up to them, out of breath and Anna would be crying. Unongleal, as calmly as he could and sending Hedregon dirty looks out of the corner of his eye, would tell them that Galadriel needed to see them immediately and that they needed to be accompanied.  
  
Rathien would turn to Lisiael and shake Unongleal, demanding to know what was going on, muttering threats under her breath. Unongleal would put his arms protectively around Lisiael and tell Hedregon that he should walk in the front, so that Lisiael would be safe. Anna would follow the procession, still refusing to speak and carrying her face in her hands. Lisiael would try to get out of Unongleal's grip without hurting him but would find it useless, so she would turn to Verianna and ask the same question: What is going on? Anna would be too upset to say anything.  
  
Hedregon would, as naïve as he was, have no idea what was going on. He would oblige with Unongleal's orders and walk ahead of the group, feeling as though there was a spear pressed to his back. It would feel all too familiar.  
  
When they would reach Galadriel, she would sit them down and carefully explain the position she was in. Celeborn would be sitting in the background again, crumpled into his chair, his grief consuming him. Galadriel would tell them how two boys had come into her woods and come to her, saying that they were looking for a Hedregon son of Denethor. As soon as Galadriel would say this, Hedregon would go white and Lisiael would turn to him, confused. Hedregon had never told Lisiael or Rathien about why he had to leave Minas Tirith.  
  
Galadriel would repeat the story the boys gave her, how Hedregon had killed thirty-four people in Minas Tirith for no apparent reason. She would emphasize that she trusted Hedregon and that this was not necessarily true, but at the same time that she would have to take the proper precautions to ensure everyone's safety. Galadriel would tell Hedregon that she would allow him to chose someplace to stay the night, as it would be late, and for the boys in the morning to confer with him.  
  
Hedregon, most grateful that Galadriel was so fair, would agree to this and Galadriel would add that Lisiael would be staying the night in Galadriel's chambers. Lisiael would be extremely annoyed by this but oblige and everyone would set off for bed.  
  
Hedregon would choose to stay in his tree as he had when he had lived in Lórien and Galadriel would station two guards at the bottom of it. Lisiael would know one of them. Hedregon would step into an uneasy sleep and would wake quickly when he would hear commotion at the base of his tree.  
  
He would look over the landing and see, to his great surprise, Gediwer and Rojwer fighting with the guards at the base of his tree. At first he would think that he was hallucinating, he would tell himself that Gediwer and Rojwer were dead, but he wouldn't get much of a chance to think. Gediwer and Rojwer would ruthlessly slay the guards at the base of Hedregon's tree and begin climbing the ladder, towards him.  
  
Once the boys would reach the landing, they would bare their teeth and redraw their swords. With gleaming red eyes, they would come at Hedregon and he would back into a corner, uncomprehending and terrified.  
  
"Look what you've done," Gediwer would snarl, pointing to the base of the tree where Galadriel's guards, now dead, would be lying.  
  
Then both of their faces would break into sick, twisted smiles and they would leave Hedregon alone in the small room. He would panic, realize what had just been done to him, and then Hedregon would run away again, just as he had a dozen years ago. He would run, even though now it would be daybreak and even though everyone would be awake.  
  
He would hide behind trees as guards ran past him. He would hear them whispering to one another about how Galadriel had sadly given them orders to shoot him on sight. And then Hedregon would hear one more rumor: that Galadriel's daughter was furious with her mother and that she had also run away.  
  
Hedregon would smile, close his eyes, and he would before long be standing at the gates of his Dreamworld. Rathien would be there too, by the pool, drinking the water as if there was no tomorrow. Hedregon would go over to him, and she would startle him by being afraid. She would tell him that she hadn't believed that he had not killed thirty-four people until Unongleal had found the bodies of Hedregon's guards at the base of the tree.  
  
Reeling into the entire story, Hedregon would try to explain, but Rathien would look wary to believe him. She would turn away and tell him that Anna had been one of the guards at the base of the tree. Hedregon would try to comfort her but she would step away from his arms, unsure.  
  
Tears would be running down both of their faces, this would be the first time that they had not been comforted by the other's company. Hedregon would repeat over and over his innocence, and Rathien would nod, but Hedregon would be able to tell that she still was not entirely sure if he was telling the truth.  
  
And then . . . and then, an arrow would shoot out of the dark. Hedregon's Dreamworld could not be entered by stealth, but being in it does not protect those who are from the fact that people outside of it can see them. The arrow would plant itself between Hedregon's shoulder blades. He would fall, slipping ever downwards. Rathien would cry out. She would forget about guilt or innocence and run to him. Rathien would hold him in her hand that she had given her immortality to him with. In those hands, Hedregon would die. He would look up into Rathien's eyes, wishing that he could think straight enough to tell Rathien some beautiful last words, like in all of his books, but his mind would fade. Rathien would be holding him as he was dying, and she would holding him when he was dead for hours later.  
  
Hedregon's body would be brought back to Minas Tirith. A bit too late, Boromir had recognized the servant Ellie, Bevolen's sister. At Hedregon's burial, Ellie would admit that she saw the massacre and that it was not Hedregon. Lisiael would choke at this, remembering how she had not been able to believe Hedregon when he had told her that he was innocent.  
  
Rathien would never again be Rathien. She would remain Lisiael until her death, and would not visit the Dreamworld in her consciousness. Hedregon would wait there for her, though. He would wait in the Dreamworld inside the gazebo every day and every night for her, but she would not come willingly; only in her dreams. Hedregon would reluctantly keep drinking the elixir, but wondering if existence at this point in his death was worth it. And every time Lisiael woke back up into the real, the living world, Hedregon would cry.  
  
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Now, though, that was not important. Hedregon and Rathien did not know that it was going to happen, nor did they care, and that kept them considerably happy how they were: alive, young, and in love.  
  
THE END  
  
TEAR, YADDA YADDA YOU KNEW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN. WELL, THE END! PLEASE REVIEW. IF YOU AREN'T LOGGED ON EMAIL ME AT smilegirl716@hotmail.com AND JUST PUT SOMETHING LIKE "FANFIC" IN THE SUBJECT BOX. I'LL PROBABLY GET IT. 


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